“Perhaps Lady Laytham—”
“No! She suffered enough at my uncle’s hands. I won’t have her paying for this as well.” I started to raise my hand to scrub it over my face before realising I still held a fistful of paper in it. I kept my hand at my side instead, opening my fingers and letting the vowels fall to the floor. “How much time will you give me?”
I glanced up in time to catch his expression. It was almost as if my reaction wasn’t what he expected. I dismissed that foolish notion.
Stephenson examined his fingernails. “Your uncle used up all the time, I fear.”
“He was aware you held his vowels?”
“He was.”
Knowing that pleased me inordinately.
“As to the time you have…I’ve given you an additional fortnight’s grace due to the unfortunate circumstances of earlier this month, but…” He shrugged.